


Food is BAE (Beyond Anything Earthly) and So is Love

by EZChase



Series: A Love for Food and Other Essential Things as Told by SpideyPool Ficlets [1]
Category: Daredevil (2003), Daredevil (TV), Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Based on Eric the Electric videos, But feel free to picture whoever you want, Endgame is not real, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Matt Murdock is a Good Bro, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Ned Leeds is a Little Shit, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Peter Parker is CUTE, Ryan Reynolds is my Deadpool, Spideypool won't happen for a while, Team Red, Team Red is BroT3, Tom Holland is my Spider-Man, WIP, fight me, idk what this even is, infinity war didn't happen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-09 11:17:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18915859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EZChase/pseuds/EZChase
Summary: Peter is roped into making Spider-Man related social media platforms. Food-related hijinks ensue as Team Red deals with the consequences.





	1. Prolog: The Event that Starts it all

**Author's Note:**

> Shout-out to Eric the Electric for being the reason this fic-set even exists. I love you man. Your food vids are what got me through college.

It started out, like all things that inevitably give cause to embarrassment start out—with a bet.

A bet with Ned Leeds never turned out well for Peter Parker because the two best friends had a tendency to pull the world’s most childish actions out of each other. Bets with Ned usually led to unforeseen awkwardness such as running through parts of central park naked, forcing Peter to start Spider-Man themed Instagram and Snapchat accounts called Spider-Watch, and also caused Peter to do things such as go through a copious amount of Kirk and Spock slash fic in only one summer. It probably had to do with the fact that Peter and Ned had known each other practically since birth and had therefore seen each other in every situation, and condition, imaginable. It’s because of the intimate and widely humiliating knowledge they had of one another that allowed them to push _just_ the right buttons in order to get the other to do the dumbest things, simply on dares, bets, or even just the general principle of things.

But ultimately, Peter blamed his spectacularly unlucky Parker Luck™ for why, when Ned drunkenly bet him that he didn’t have the balls to make a YouTube channel for Spider-Man, he found himself sat in front of a beat-up camcorder (he’d salvaged it from a dumpster on his way home from patrolling Queens as the friendliest of neighborhood spiders), ready to make his first ever Mukbang. As far as video topics go, he wasn’t left with many options—there wasn’t a lot he could do in his Spidey Suit that wouldn’t give away some of the identity he’d been relatively successful in keeping secret for almost six years. Besides, he liked to eat, he enjoyed watching Mukbangs in his free time (because when you’re lowkey starving it actually does help with the hunger pangs), and his other best friend, MJ, had told him on more than one occasion that the noises he made while eating were the stuff of ASMR wet dreams. He figured there had to be at least _some_ type of audience for those videos, however a niche group it would be, that would appreciate Spidey Mukbangs, as he was nothing if not a competitive perfectionist.

He had a driving need to show Ned he wasn’t a coward—plus, Honor & Glory, the newest Iron Man themed videogame was on the line. Ned had a friend, who had a brother, whose girlfriend’s sister knew the creator and had gotten him the game a whole three months before it was rumored to be dropped in stores. Ned had promised to let Peter play the game first if Peter made a Spider-Man YouTube account and posted a video that lasted longer than three minutes.

Peter really wanted to be the first person, besides the beta testers, to play the game, because players could literally play as Tony Stark. They could make decisions that could enhance or ruin Stark Industries, as well as play as Iron Man and actually investigate crimes—not just blow things up. The amount of gamer freedom was nearly unheard of, and each decision gamers made could completely change the storyline—it was sort of like a choose your own adventure. Plus, the graphics and combat were rumored to be the highest quality on the market.

When Ned has asked Peter why he wanted to play a game version of what he did in real life as the spider-themed vigilante, Peter had sighed and flung himself on the mattress that barely passed as a bed in the corner of his tiny studio apartment.

“Because Ned,” Peter had said, crossing his arms behind his head, gazing up at the poster of the Milky Way he’d put up to cover what he suspected was a dried bloodstain, as he took a sip of his lukewarm beer, “he’s my _hero_. I wanna _be_ Mr. Stark one day. And I think it would be really informative to play the game as him—it could give me some insight into him as a person. I’m just glad he barely hero’s anymore, because his enemies could totally use it against him. I can’t believe he gave the creators the green light at all.” Peter frowned, thinking of the rumors around the game. The beta testers had kept their lips sealed about what it was actually about, and there had yet to be leaked footage, so no one actually knew what would be in the game. Suddenly he sat up and looked at Ned. “Dude. It’s rumored that they even have a garage function that lets you tinker on robots! How cool is that?”

“But Pete, you actually work in a lab—with him—on actual robots. Like you even have your own A.I. You’d be playing a game of your actual life…,” Ned shook his head and took a large gulp of his Smirnoff Ice, before he too flopped onto Peter’s bed. This action caused Peter to bounce comically, and if he hadn’t had his Spidey Senses, his beer would’ve been completely knocked out of his hand. “But whatever, I don’t judge. Make the video and I’ll let you have the game.”

Thus, Peter sat on the comfortable, if badly ripped, leather couch he’d found on eBay, in his shoebox apartment, with a feast of food boxes spread out on a long piece of plywood that was held up by stacked milk crates (it was the closest thing he could find to an affordable coffee table in New York City.) He’d jury-rigged the camcorder to be held against his water stained wall by several lengths of webbing, since he didn’t have a tripod and wasn’t about to spend money on one when he only intended to upload _one_ video. He just didn’t have the money for that—especially since he’d originally picked the device up to fix a damaged piece of tech on his duct-taped laptop.

He’d been living off one meal of soggy ramen a day for the past month just to save up the money to be able to buy the food for his Mukbang—if he was only making one video, he wanted it to be epic. His mutate enhanced metabolism could eat as much as three teenagers on a bad day, which is what he used to justify the fact that he’d splurged and bought two large supreme pizzas, bacon and cheese garlic bread twists, stuffed parmesan cheesy bread, lava cake, BBQ boneless wings, a Philly cheese steak sandwich, and an Italian sandwich.

Peter pulled the bottom of his Spider-Man mask up to the bridge of his nose and flashed the recording camera a giddy grin, his mouth practically watering at the smell of garlic that coiled throughout his apartment. He tried not to focus on the fact that his wallet was burning a hole in his pocket, nearly a hundred bucks lighter than it was before he’d stopped by Joe’s Pizzeria to grab the food.

“Hey, Spider-Fans! It’s the amazing wallcrawler here, bringing you the most epic of mukbangs,” Peter said to the camera, purposefully adding a gruffness to his voice that wasn’t ordinarily there. He self-consciously rubbed the back of his neck, hoping the mask hid his red cheeks. “I, ah, read somewhere that drinking coke and water helps all this go down, so that’s what’s in these two giant cups. In case you were wondering.”

He picked up the water cup with his left hand, the words “I pooped today” scrawled across the brown plastic for all of YouTube to see.

“Like this video, if you’ve pooped today—I sure have.” Peter winked at the camera, even though he wasn’t sure the action would be picked up through his mask. Then he showed off the cup with the soda in it. It was the same size as the other one, but this one was blue and said, “I may be Nerdy, but only periodically,” with “Nerdy” separated as periodic elements.

“Like this video if you also love puns. C’mon people, everyone loves puns. Because they’re…punny.”

After laughing at his own cringe-worthy, dad joke, he put the cups down and got serious.

“Okay guys, I know this all seems like fun—but you definitely _shouldn’t_ try to eat all this food at home, like I’m about to. You could really hurt yourselves and I don’t want my younger audience to think this is a fun way to rip their stomachs open. It sucks, trust me. Anyway, I know some people like to know the specifics, so the total calories for this challenge will be listed right there,” Peter pointed to the space on his left where he’d edit the numbers in later, “and the total macros will be listed for you there,” he pointed to the empty space on his right. “And without further ado, let’s get the Joe’s Pizzeria challenge started, ya filthy animals!”

It took him nearly twenty minutes to get the perfect thumbnail for his video. Just eating all the food, at a pace that wouldn’t tire out his jaw, took a couple of hours. By the time he’d finished eating, sped everything up so the video was only half an hour, edited the video, added in calculations and music, had the account bounce off of several different servers so that no one could find his location through digital means, and finally posted it to his new account, he was nearly in a food coma and fell asleep right on his couch, still in his Spidey Suit, mask still halfway up his face.

When Peter woke up, it was to his laptop letting out several chimes, indicating that his email had an influx of new messages. He groaned, shoving himself upright and checked the time on his phone to see that it was nearly noon and his phone was at two percent. He ignored the messages from his inbox, stood, and shuffled over to the outlet by his mattress where he plugged in his phone and laid it on the cardboard box he used as a nightstand but that he actually kept his clothes stored in. He peeled himself out of his Spidey Suit, deciding to take a shower and bask in the fact that he didn’t have to do anything that day. Between working as a top scientist at Stark Industries and as a photographer for The Daily Bugle, masquerading as the Wallcrawler every night, studying for his doctorate, and still trying to maintain a semblance of a social life, Peter very rarely had free-time. Thus, he was going to take his time waking up and showering.

By the time he was washed, dressed in a loose pair of threadbare sweats, and sat across from his laptop again, his inbox had received over two hundred messages. They were all comments that had been added to his Spidey Mukbang video. Most of them were good, encouraging even. People liked that he was Spider-Man themed, though very few people believed he was the real deal. Some had made connections between his mannerisms in the video and his mannerisms in the Spider-Watch social media, and tried to convince the skeptics. Most asked about when the next video would be uploaded.

Smiling, Peter took a screen grab and sent it to Ned to show evidence that he’d finished his side of the bet.

           

**Received from: NedtheAmazing (3:09 pm)**

Dude no way! Can’t believe you really did it.

^o^   ٩(^‿^)۶

 

**Received from: NedtheAmazing (3:10 pm)**

I’ll hand the game over tonight.

           

**Sent from: PeteCute (3:15 pm)**

Good. You owe me big, my dude.

           

**Received from: NedtheAmazing (3:20 pm)**

I’ll bring Thai.

           

Peter nodded in agreement and set his phone aside to scroll through the rest of the comments. He wasn’t prepared for the fact that his brain was greedily soaking up the praise for his stage presence and stupid jokes and charming personality. He didn’t even realize he cared about societal validation until that moment. There were rude comments and posts from trolls, but on the whole, the experience was pleasant.

Which was how Peter’s side hobby began.

Much like the comments he received on the Spider-Watch social media, Peter became obsessed with his Spidey YouTube page. He didn’t have time to post many videos, but he tried to always make his videos quality entertainment, and thought his fans were all the happier for it. In fact, his viewership grew so much that he quickly rose to the heights of YouTube’s top hundred influencers and began to make money off each of the videos and some of the ads. Local businesses started paying Spider-Man cash to review their food and do eating challenges in their restaurants.

At first, Peter had declined the offers of money. After all, he was a superhero and he shouldn’t take money from the people he was trying to save. But with each posted video and each demand for more, his empty stomach and wallet screamed louder and louder until he was forced to acquiesce or face nutritional consequences.

On the bright side, though, the YouTube channel, and subsequent flock to Spider-Man’s other social media, allowed Peter to have enough money to drop back at the Daily Bugle on a freelance basis and gave him enough courage to haggle Jameson over what his photographs were worth.


	2. Chapter One: The Actual Beginning

It started, as most things did, with a box of chocolates, a cold burrito, and a secret admirer.

Well. Peter supposed most things didn’t start off _quite_ like that.

But in his world of wacky villains, alien invasions, and superheroes with social media accounts, it was pretty par for the course. Plus, years later, when sat in front of a little girl who looks so much like the love of his life it hurts, Peter will start the story that way because it always puts a smile on Ellie’s face to hear about how her Papa and Dad first met.

It was like any normal Monday night. Crime was slow, so patrol went slow, because no one ever has the energy to steal things on Mondays, not even the scum of the city.

Peter, dressed as Spider-Man, was sat on the roof of his favorite Mexican joint, fighting the urge to go down and grab a few nachos—he still had to pay his phone bill and rent that week, which meant he couldn’t afford to spend all his money on takeout. He had his lab notebook in his lap, phone in hand, as he copied the lab directions down for his BioChem class the next morning.

It was the smell that got his attention first.

After the spider bite in Oscorp, five years prior, his senses were on overdrive, meaning he could smell spilled blood from very long distances.

He was up on his feet in an instant, swinging down and away from the restaurant, headed south, towards Hell’s Kitchen.

He was sure Daredevil would be at the scene of the crime and would likely already have the situation under control. But the night was slow, Peter was bored, and he was kind of lonely. Besides, he and Matt had always been friendly, if a bit one-sided conversationally speaking sometimes, and he was sure that, if nothing else, this would be an excuse to put off his homework for just a bit longer.

When he got to the alley where the strong smell of freshly spilled blood came from, Peter wasn’t expecting to find Daredevil crouched in front of three men tied up with what looked like packing tape, as they slowly bled out from serious looking injuries.

“Didn’t take you for the kind to nearly beat people to death,” he said as he cautiously approached Daredevil. For all he knew, it was a clone. Or an evil, multi-verse traveling version of Matt. Anything was possible at this point.

“This wasn’t me,” Daredevil answered as he stood. He turned around and pointed at Spider-Man. “They’ll live. But apparently, it was done in your honor.”

“What?” Peter asked, so shocked by Matt’s words he almost didn’t catch the card Matt shoved into his chest.

“Looks like one of your fans wanted to take justice into their own hands,” Matt said. “They apparently only loosely understand the definition of justice.”  

Peter looked down at the card, which read “Happy Mother’s Day, Grammy” on the front.

Frowning, Peter opened the card, only to see neatly blocked handwriting written in red crayon, which read: I hope you liked the presents! The three baddies tried to rob an elderly woman, so I stopped them, like I know you would. I figured you’d like the chocolate and tacos too—you could review them on your channel! XOXO Your secret admirer.

“Tacos and chocolate?” Peter asked Matt as he looked up from the note. “What?”

Matt hooked his thumb over his shoulder, pointing at a gift basket that sat innocently on the fire escape above the group of men, as he said, “it seems like there’s nothing left for us here. I just finished calling the cops. They should be here soon.”

Peter rubbed the back of his neck as his gaze drifted from Daredevil, to the three men who were tied up, to the basket of food he smelled now, as his nose adjusted to the scent of drying blood.

“Oh. Well. Okay then,” Peter said as he took a step back, clutching the card in his hands. “I’ll take a closer look at the card in the morning. You pick up anything about the ‘secret admirer’?”

“Not really. They were careful,” Daredevil answered. “Highly trained. I’d be cautious until we can figure out more, Spider-Man. Your enemies tend to be…”

“Yeah. Awful. I know. And I’ll be fine.”

“It’s curious that your admirer didn’t place these…presents closer to your home turf.”

“I was in the neighborhood,” Peter said, shaking his head. “Posted an update on Insta with a picture of a pigeon. They must’ve seen that or something. They’re clearly a follower.”

“Well, nothing to be done now,” Matt said as he cocked his head to the side. “The police are close. We’d better go.”

Peter looked back at the gift basket. His stomach growled.

Daredevil let out a low sounding chuckle then.

“There doesn’t seem to be anything off with the food,” he said, making his way out of the alley. “I’m sure you’ll be fine if you take it. I’ll call you later if I find anything.”

“Thanks,” Peter replied absently. “See ya around, Devil.”

He grabbed the basket of food and swung back towards the Mexican restaurant he’d been sitting at, before everything had happened, in order to grab his things. His mind was a mess of what all of the new information could mean for him. Clearly whoever had beaten those men so badly wasn’t particularly good. And clearly, they followed him on YouTube and Instagram, which meant that he’d have to be careful about his posts for the next few days.

He sighed when he finally crawled into the safety of his small apartment a few hours later. He’d thought that the social media would be good exposure for Spider-Man, so people would stop seeing him as the menace the Bugle liked to paint him as, but if this kept up, people were going to get wind that Spider-Man had a homicidal fan on his hands.

If he happened to drown his rising anxiety and worry with the chocolate and cold burritos from the gift basket, then no one was the wiser.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they belong to Marvel Studios and Disney.


End file.
